


Always There

by Sandpiper01



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandpiper01/pseuds/Sandpiper01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, Isaac, and Scott have been friends since early elementary school. They've always been there for each other and none of them could imagine life without either of their best friends. Several somewhat related one-shots or shorter stories revolving around these three before and during high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always There

I wasn't planning on making a long story out of this, just a few one shots of them at different ages. And I know this first one is a bit cliche and unoriginal, but I was looking for a bit of a starter. If you have any ideas or prompts I'd love to hear them!

This first one takes place during the summer before freshman year. No werewolves yet.

* * * * *

"Okay, this is the last round before we get something to eat," Stiles says, once again picking up the Play Station controller.

"I told you to eat something before you came over," Scott replies. "We ate dinner early 'cause my mom has to work the night shift, and the only thing I can make is cereal."

Stiles huffs once, putting his focus on the game instead of his growling stomach. He pauses to look out the window - it's already getting dark and they'll have to ride their bikes somewhere to get anything more substantial than Reese's Puffs. His head whips back towards the TV screen when he hears the game's gunshots, only to see blood on his half of the screen.

Scott drops the controller in his lap with a sigh. "I should have known you wouldn't try." He hops to his feet, his arm extended to help Stiles up as well. "I guess I'm still kind of hungry," he admits as he pulls Stiles to his feet.

As they begin debating what would be faster - junk food from the closer gas station or fast food just below a mile away - the doorbell rang.

"Got it!" Scott and Stiles hear Melissa call from downstairs. "I'm on my way out anyway."

Scott and Stiles share a glance, curious one moment and knowing the next - only Isaac would come this late without any notice.

"But I thought-"

"Yeah, he's still grounded," Stiles finishes for Scott.

"Maybe it's not him?" Scott guesses.

Stiles shrugs. Burning curiosity moves Scott's feet first, and the two boys fumble downstairs, tripping over one another the whole way down.

Melissa stops and turns at the noise the two make. "Expecting someone?" she asked.

"No," they said simultaneously.

She gave them a silent "You two will never be normal" look and turned to open the door.

"Isaac, wh-" she says with a smile, but it soon fades and she quickly sets her bag and car keys on the floor. "Isaac what happened?"

Scott and Stiles are at her side in an instant, peering over her shoulder to greet Isaac. With his shoulders brought up towards his neck ever so slightly, Isaac shuffles once and moves his hands to his hoodie pocket. In the yellow porch light, Scott can easily make out the red and purple mark on Isaac's cheek.

"It's - Some kids tried to get my backpack," he says, making no eye contact.

Melissa lightly puts her hand under his chin and turns his cheek towards the light, the nurse side of her taking over instantaneously. "Is there anything else? I can take you to the hospital, I was on my way to work anyway. Or we can just patch you up here. Scott, could you go get the first aid in my bathroom? We'll give you and ice pack and-"

"It's fine," Isaac says with a small smile as he gently pulls away from Melissa's hand. He appreciates it, he really does. More than anything. "And I don't want to make you late for work."

"If someone hurt you, Isaac, it's a good reason for me to be late. Everyone there would understand," Melissa replied.

"Hey," Scott says to get Isaac's attention. When Isaac looks up, Scott hands him a bag of frozen peas. "The ice pack wasn't there, so this was the next best thing.

"Thanks," Isaac replies as he set the cold bag against his throbbing cheek.

"You know I can't just leave you to ride your bike home. I'm happy to take you back to your house, it's not-"

"No," Isaac declines a bit too quickly, earning him a raised eyebrow from Melissa. "It's just - I need my bike to get to work early tomorrow morning and it won't fit in your car. Besides, no one is home right now."

Melissa takes a deep breath in and turns towards Scott and Stiles, debating whether it would be a good idea to leave them alone for most of the night. The two boys give her their sweetest smiles, knowing what is going through her mind. They all have the perfect dynamic by now. Melissa and Sheriff Stilinski knew how to manipulate their sons to a certain extent, just like Scott and Stiles knew how to do the same. It created a balance. Or just a messy conflict of stubborn minds.

"Stay here until your father gets off of work," Melissa turns to Isaac. She knows the situation would have come to this despite any other answer. "Then your bike will fit in his truck. But you're not riding your bike home. Not tonight, at least."

Isaac gives a small smile. "I really appreciate it, Miss McCall."

"Our door's always open," Scott says to Isaac as he picks up his mother's things for her - a silent thank you for letting Isaac stay.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," Melissa tells Scott. She quickly kisses his cheek and adds, "No partying," to all three boys.

"See you tomorrow," Scott says with a smile.

"Thanks again," Isaac offers just before Scott closes the front door.

They turn towards Isaac, able to see right through his lie.

"That looks worse than last time," Scott tells Isaac as he folds his arms across his chest.

"It's nowhere near the same," Isaac counters.

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles says. "It's a lot worse. Last time you could barely tell."

Reluctantly, Isaac brings the relief of the frozen peas away from his cheek and turns to look at his reflection in the nearest picture frame. He sighs when he realizes his friends are right. They usually are, usually have been, most likely always will be.

And they're only ever looking out for him.

"So do you still have Reese's Puffs?" he asks in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Oh no." Stiles holds his hands up. "This has been progressively getting worse. If my dad ever saw you..."

"He won't. He can't," Isaac says.

"It might make things easier," Scott offered gently.

"And then what would happen?" Isaac asks, his tone suddenly demanding. "I'd get moved halfway across California or even the country. I already know every corner of Beacon Hills. I already have lacrosse starting next year. I can't leave."

"They don't always move kids that far away," Stiles attempts.

"It's a small town. There's nowhere for me to stay, so I know they would send me to some big city where there are more options."

"Have you at least considered it?" Scott asks.

"Yeah. Just now. And I'm done considering it."

Isaac abruptly pulls his backpack onto both shoulders and walking to the living room to plop onto the couch. He lets his cheek rest against the cold peas, letting his eyes close. He can't believe his two best friends just suggested he take the risk of being forced away from Beacon Hills. They've known each other since pre-school! He's used to having them around, used to going to them for help.

Just like he is now.

He opens his eyes again, but he drops the peas and scrambles to fix a problem he knows is only his fault. Right under his feet are a few blood stains on the cream-colored carpet. His breath catches in his throat. Heartbeat doubles in speed. Desperately, he pushes the hem of his pant leg against the source of the blood: four scratches on the front of his ankle

"Shit," he says repeatedly as he rushes to put his backpack under his feet, an attempt to save the carpet.

"Dude, it's okay!" Scott exclaims, grabbing Isaac's shoulder.

Isaac's gaze whipped toward him, making him think he had startled Isaac.

"My mom won't be mad." Scott sat next to Isaac on the couch.

Isaac seemed to visibly relax.

"Seriously," Stiles said from the kitchen. "I've tracked so much mud onto that carpet and she still lets me stay over."

"But mud comes out so much more easily than blood."

Isaac grimaced as he pulled his jeans away from his ankle, half expecting blood to pour from the scratches and stain the carpet for good. But he realized it really wasn't as bad as he thought - the stream of blood had turned into a trickle, his backpack catching the remaining few drops.

"It's just a few drops," Scott reassures Isaac. "It'll come out."

"I guess I scratched it when I got on my bike too quickly," Isaac assumes.

Stiles comes back to the living room, a bowl in one hand and a box of bandages in the other. He peers over Isaac's backpack to get a look at the damage Isaac's ankle had caused.

"Pfft," he smirks as he sets a bowl of Reese's Puffs on the coffee table along with the bandages. "That's nothing. When I say mud, I mean piles of it."

Isaac smirks at the Reese's Puffs brought especially for him. It's a bit of an inside joke between them. His dad has always hated the idea of eating candy for breakfast, so they never kept any in the house. Lucky for Isaac, it was Scott's favorite cereal too, and it was always kept well in stock at the McCall house.

Scott leaves to find the carpet cleaner, and Isaac begins cleaning his ankle as he speaks. "It's just - I like knowing I always have somewhere to go. I don't know what I would do if your mom didn't let me back, Scott."

"Hey," Stiles opened his arms wide, "There's always my house."

Isaac can hear Scott's laugh from the kitchen and can't help but join in.

"What?" Stiles asks, honestly a bit hurt.

"You only have vegetables and fat-free stuff at your place," Scott's voice comes from around the corner.

Stiles sighs dramatically and falls onto the couch. "My dad's trying so desperately to get us to eat healthier. What's wrong with curly fries? We're growing teenagers, we need junk food."

Scott has two more bowls of Reese's Puffs in his hands, a towel and a can of carpet cleaner perched on his elbows as he comes back into the living room. He hands one to Stiles as Isaac takes his from the table.

"You know, I can settle with this," Stiles says with a mouth full of cereal, referring back to his and Scott's earlier conversation about food.

"Who settles for Reese's Puffs?" Isaac says in between bites. "You should be begging for them whenever you get the chance."

Stiles and Scott chuckle, happy their friend bounces back to himself so quickly. They finish their substantial meals quickly, forcing Scott to rush back to the kitchen and simply grab the entire box.

They pass the box around, each of them grabbing handfuls at a time. It starts with Stiles being a showoff by throwing a bite in the air and - attempting - to catch it in his mouth. But he only falls and trips over himself to give up and watch Scott and Isaac catch each of theirs.

With each laugh and playful shove, Isaac forgets about the blood on the carpet and the bruise on his cheek.


End file.
